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He woke up with a startle, his back jolting upright. Something hard nudged into his spine. Still sluggish from waking up and not quite lucid, Akira automatically tried to move. His hands roughly tugged back behind him and a rattling sound echoed. It was then that he realized his hands were restrained, and he wasn't on the bed that he remembered falling asleep on last night.
Akira looked behind him to see what was holding his hands back.
His eyes widened and he jerked the moment he saw what was there. His hands were cuffed, but the handcuffs were behind one of the legs of the table.
A string of curses rose in Akira's head, mostly directed at Shiki, who'd no doubt put him in this position in the first place. Akira shook his hands vigorously, trying to break the handcuffs apart. The chain link only grated with a dull metal clink against the leg of the table, though, and the table didn't even budge.
The realization that he was actually stuck like this made Akira snarl in frustration. He tried forcing the handcuffs apart harder, but the chain didn't split, even as he put all his strength into it. Pulling it against the leg of the table didn't seem to work either—the chain was unbelievably sturdy.
"Fuck!" Akira growled out, anger rising in him exponentially as the chain jangled noisily behind him. He hated the sensation of being restrained, and he hated the feeling of being helpless even more. The discomfort of having his hands stopping whenever he tried to pull them forward sent hot anger bubbling in his blood. It wasn't the first time Shiki had handcuffed him, but it was certainly the first time he'd restrained Akira in this manner, tethering him to the leg of a table as if he was a fucking dog that needed to be chained.
After a few more minutes of trying to break the handcuffs and failing, and getting his wrists sore in the process, Akira let his hands fall. Unclenching his fists, he turned his face back to the front and hung his head, huffing and staring down at his lap.
…It was quiet.
Shiki was gone.
He lifted his face and glanced toward the light coming into the room from the window. He couldn't tell what time it was. There was light, so it was obviously still daytime, but the sky was so dark and ashen, with just a crack of white sunlight peeking through leaden clouds. It was impossible to discern whether it was morning or afternoon. Shiki could have just left—as he usually did at dawn—or he could've been gone for hours already. Akira didn't know.
And the thought of not knowing made his hands fidget.
His arms were starting to ache being stuck like this, and so was his back. He couldn't sit straight because of the way his arms were positioned, forced to hunch forward instead. It was starting to annoy him. Akira jostled the handcuffs again, though he knew the outcome would be the same. He exhaled a resigning sigh when his hands were met with resistance.
Scowling, he wondered how he could have possibly slept through Shiki doing something like this, but he already knew. Last night, he'd been so tired and exhausted from the torment he'd endured that he'd passed out almost immediately after. Shiki—the fucking bastard—he'd kept Akira awake, forcing him to put up with several humiliating acts throughout the night, driving Akira's already flimsy pride into the ground. The memories made Akira's nape burn and prickle in both mortification and fury. Any form of resistance Akira had put up, Shiki had struck down with a merciless blow to his face. The bruises still stung even now.
What pissed him off even more was that he hadn't even stirred from his sleep when Shiki had moved him from the bed. He'd been exhausted, sure, but he thought his mind would've kicked awake at least at the intrusive feeling of being moved by someone else. Had his senses really dulled that much ever since he'd been imprisoned by Shiki?
Akira didn't know, but regardless, he was stuck like this now, and he wasn't sure when Shiki would be back.
He slumped against the leg of the table, his shoulders rounding into an awkward slouch. Bringing up one knee, he tried to make do with his current situation and find whatever comfortable position he could, though the comfort didn't last long no matter how he arranged himself. He'd never realized how annoying and tedious it was having to stay still until now. Every muscle in his limbs ached to be stretched and moved around; to get the blood pumping through them. He wanted to stand up and rid himself of the numbing lethargy that was plaguing his body.
Soon he started to realize just how uncomfortable the silence was, being alone like this with nothing to do. Although it wasn't like he had anything to do in the first place; Shiki never left him with anything he could even remotely use to pass the time, but being forced to sit still made him aware of how… isolating this room really was.
It wasn't that big, and the only other room connected to this one was the bathroom, but this room had practically become his whole world ever since he'd been brought here. What lay outside of it, he didn't know, or it might be more accurate to say he didn't know anymore. The only glimpses of the outside world he got were from the windows of Shiki's room, and a view of the city from two stories up didn't help him get much of a sense of things. Most of the time, the heavy rain made it difficult to see anything aside from the myriad of derelict buildings spanning across Toshima.
Sometimes he wondered where Rin and Motomi were, and if they were puzzled about his whereabouts. It wasn't like he'd been close with either of them, but they'd probably realized his disappearance by now. Akira hoped they hadn't spent too much effort searching for him. It was unlikely they would find him given how this apartment seemed to be on the outskirts of the city, far from the neutral zones. The fact that no one else had raided this building to use as a hideout despite its decent condition stood as a testament to how elusive it was. With Shiki being an occupant of this building though, it was probably for the best that no one else had come here. No doubt it was far safer anywhere else in Toshima than right here in the demon's den.
Akira often thought about his mission, too, but he couldn't bring himself to care much anymore. His weapon—the knife he always carried—was gone, either confiscated by Shiki or left forgotten on the ground after his battle with Keisuke, Akira couldn't remember. The important detail was that he had nothing left to fight nor defend himself with—a vulnerability that Shiki eagerly exploited.
But Akira was expendable and of no significance; Emma had made that blatantly clear in their negotiation. Whatever happened to Akira now… it wasn't of her concern anymore.
Akira sighed, his gaze falling from the windows to the floor. It was like time had come to a standstill ever since that moment Shiki had brought him to this room… Akira knew nothing of what was happening in the outside world anymore, and he knew even less of what would become of him in the future.
Time only resumed whenever Shiki returned, though that didn't mean Akira looked forward to his presence. Akira had come to dread hearing those steady yet sharp footsteps. Whenever Shiki returned, that was when the true torture began. Shiki never left him alone when he came back, always taunting and tormenting him, pushing Akira to his limits and making him reach a new low each time.
Akira was a prisoner here, and the metal handcuffs currently restraining him solidified that harrowing reality. Left to himself, he only had his thoughts to keep him company, and with no one else's voice but his own, there was nothing to stop his head from spiraling into a dissonant mess.
But despite all the complicated and unwanted thoughts swarming inside his head, he'd always find himself thinking back to Shiki—where he was, for example, or why he did what he did. What was he expecting of Akira? Why had he taken Akira in? What was he planning to do with him?
Was there possibly something Shiki… needed or wanted of him?
At that, Akira recalled the subtle weight in his navel. Somehow the piercing never seemed to quite escape his thoughts; a permanent mark Shiki had embedded into his body. It stood as Shiki's "proof of possession" over him, though calling it that made Akira's jaw clench. He didn't belong to anyone, and certainly not to Shiki.
Akira stared at the bed across from him. On top of it, the sheets were still a crumpled mess from his and Shiki's activities last night. Akira's gaze turned into a hard glare, but he forced himself to look away. It would be pointless to get himself worked up over this, especially when Shiki wasn't even here provoking him and mocking him like he usually would be. He had to preserve what little energy he had left. It had been hours, possibly more than half a day since he'd last drank or eaten something. His throat and stomach were both craving for sustenance. There might have been some Solids or water left on the table, but in Akira's current state, he couldn't even stand up to check.
As much as it infuriated him to think about the man, Akira spent the next few hours wondering when Shiki would be back.
✝
♱
He heard the footsteps coming from down the hallway. Steady taps echoed against concrete, jolting Akira into alertness. The handcuffs rattled in Akira's jerky movements, but he stilled when Shiki's measured steps stopped right at the door. The sharp silence that followed was almost deafening.
Shiki opened the door and stepped inside, sounding unhurried and casual in his movements as he set his sword against the wall. Akira swallowed, his saliva hardly wetting his throat. He loathed to admit it, but he wished Shiki would hurry up and come over here. He was starving and dehydrated. Even if it hurt his pride to admit how dependent he'd become on Shiki for food and water, it wasn't as though he relied on Shiki willingly. Shiki was the whole damn reason why he was like this in the first place.
Akira heard the sound of a plastic bag rustling as it was placed on top of the table, but he hardly paid it any mind. He needed food. Water. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand swallowing his own saliva.
Shiki came around the table and stopped in front of Akira, towering over him from above. Akira's eyes were fixed on Shiki's shoes at first, but then he lifted his gaze, soon catching the intrigued look on Shiki's face.
Shiki observed Akira quietly for a few seconds, his gaze sliding down and back up Akira's form as though conducting an inspection, before a slight hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
"How does it feel," Shiki finally said, his voice holding no shortage of a sneer, "being forced to sit in place like a dog?"
A glower was on Akira's face immediately. The handcuffs jangled behind him before he remembered he was still restrained. Shiki's eyes caught the attempted movement. They narrowed in keen amusement.
"It's been a while since you've last eaten, hasn't it?" Shiki said offhandedly, taking off his gloves. It didn't actually sound like a question he wanted an answer to. More like he just wanted to remind Akira of the hunger he was obviously feeling right now.
Shiki grabbed a Solid and ripped open the top of the wrapper. He sat on a wooden crate in front of Akira, and Akira immediately moved back, pressing himself against the leg of the table to create whatever distance he could, his eyes trained on Shiki with extreme caution. Shiki didn't bother creeping closer to him, staying where he was. He was still within an arm's reach of Akira.
Shiki was staring down at him with an air of regal arrogance. It was that look. That look Shiki had that always pissed Akira off. As if he was better than everyone else, as if nobody was worth his time, as if people were just mere playthings to him. Akira wanted to punch that expression off his face. The weight of the handcuffs acted as a heavy reminder of his current position though.
Shiki's lips curled at the edges and he held his hand out with a sort of eerie elegance. Akira's eyes darted to Shiki's hand, his back tensing.
"If you want it, then beg for it." The Solid sat in the palm of his hand.
Akira responded to the ridiculous demand with silence, eyes flicking back up to glare at Shiki. His throat was so parched that if he spoke, it would just agitate his vocal cords and make him think about how thirsty he was.
"Don't you want it?" Shiki asked, this time holding the Solid closer to Akira's face. Akira couldn't help but fix his gaze on it. In Shiki's hand, the chunk of Solid was partially visible, the bright visuals of the logo on the wrapper popping out. For once in his life, Akira found himself craving the taste of preservatives that vaguely resembled whichever flavor the Solid was trying to imitate. Even though he'd eaten so many Solids in his life that the chemical taste had practically become ingrained into his palate, his mouth couldn't help but produce a little more saliva at the sight of something edible.
Shiki seemed to take notice of his desperation and chuckled deep in his throat. It wasn't until Shiki moved his hand back that Akira realized he'd unconsciously dipped his head closer to the Solid. The slight show of weakness made him flush with a mixture of humiliation and frustration, and he gritted his teeth and lowered his face.
"Beg for it."
Akira's temper was on the verge of boiling over. Shiki truly was determined to force Akira into this role of a "pet" and treat him like a dog. He'd made Akira drink water from his hand once before, but Shiki had been particularly sadistic that day. Most of the time he wasn't around to feed Akira, so he would just leave Solids and bottles of water on the table, letting Akira nourish himself on his own.
Akira's furious gaze clashed with Shiki's crimson eyes. His hands were balled up against the cold floor. He was doing everything not to show Shiki how much he was seething inside, knowing that his anger was exactly what Shiki wanted to witness, but that haughty demeanor Shiki displayed always managed to piss him off. It was aggravating talking to this guy and having to listen to his constant degrading words. And now he was trying to make Akira eat from his hand like a dog.
Akira scowled. He wouldn't give in.
"What's the matter?" Shiki said, losing no mirth in his voice even as Akira refused to give him a reaction. His lips remained curled at the edges, crimson eyes sharpened by a mischievous glint. "You should be hungry by now."
"…I'd rather starve to death before I beg you," Akira said, practically biting the words out. In spite of his dry throat, he hadn't been immune to Shiki's provocations. Akira knew it was a bad idea; struggling and fighting back was exactly what Shiki wanted, but what else was he supposed to do? If he was going to go down, he might as well go down fighting. Then at the very least, he might be able to retain some semblance of pride by the time this was over.
Shiki's lips spread into a pleased smile, and Akira eyed him cautiously, not liking the look on Shiki's face. "…Is that so," Shiki murmured, pulling his hand back. Akira tried to avoid looking directly at the Solid, keeping it in his peripheral view. "Then, what about this?"
The Solid in Shiki's hand was replaced by a water bottle. Akira stiffened, the dryness in his throat intensifying.
Shiki shook the water bottle in front of him. Akira watched intently and took in a deep breath through his nose as the water swayed around tantalizingly. The heavy sound of water sloshing, along with the plastic crinkling of the bottle, came like a din to his ears. His throat tightened.
"You want this, don't you?"
Akira wasn't sure what kind of face he was making, but he hoped he wasn't letting his anguish show too much. With hunger, he could just push it to the back of his mind if it was really necessary, but he couldn't do the same with thirst, especially when every time he swallowed, he was reminded of the agonizing drought in his throat.
Akira said nothing but kept his gaze fixed on Shiki. Was Shiki planning to humiliate him by making him lick up water from his hand again? He wouldn't beg, but… if Shiki offered the water to him by hand…
Akira's throat clenched just thinking about it, and so did his chest, sore with tattered pride. He was ashamed of his own thoughts. Before, the idea of drinking water from Shiki's hand would've disgusted him and infuriated him beyond belief. But now, it didn't seem so terrible to him if Shiki were to start pouring water down his hand for Akira to lap up. He'd already gone through the humiliation once. He could survive it again.
The rationalization of all this horrified Akira more than anything. Already, parts of him were slowly succumbing to Shiki. As Shiki tormented him more and more, Akira was getting used to humiliation and constant degradation. He would've never accepted bowing his head and drinking water from anyone's hand before all this. But thinking back on the incident now, the shame didn't sting as much as he remembered.
He was changing. Shiki was breaking him.
Shiki uncapped the bottle of water, and Akira tilted his head toward the source of that sound. He then leaned in a little closer to Shiki's hand in anticipation, ears and neck burning with shame. He knew how pathetic he must've looked right now, but if all he had to do to relieve his thirst was drink from Shiki's hand, then he could swallow down his pride and endure it for a few minutes.
Akira had kept his face lowered so he wouldn't have to meet Shiki's gaze. When seconds passed and Shiki didn't pour the water down his hand though, Akira looked up.
Shiki was smiling expectantly at him, his hand holding the water bottle upright. "Dogs should behave if they want something from their master. So ask properly."
Akira shivered with a seething breath. His hands shook, the handcuffs pulling and rattling behind him.
"Fuck you…"
He wasn't just angry at Shiki for toying with him; he was also mortified to realize he'd bowed his head without even being prompted to. Shiki hadn't even said anything about giving him water, yet Akira had lowered his head to Shiki's hand on his own accord without thought.
Shiki looked amused at the sight of him. There was laughter in his eyes. "Do you value your dignity that much over your life?" he questioned. He shook the water bottle slightly; not enough for any to spill over the opening, but enough for the wet sloshing to ring painfully in Akira's ears. "Even a fool like you should know when to surrender."
Akira gritted his teeth, looking away from the water bottle. His voice was hoarse and he wanted to quench his thirst badly, but his rage and resentment overpowered that instinctual need. He would hate himself if he gave in and let Shiki have the satisfaction of hearing him beg.
"All you have to do is cast away your pride," Shiki said.
"Never…" Akira started, his voice barely above a whisper. The words croaked in his throat with a rasp. "I'll never beg you."
"Hmph. Stubborn," Shiki scoffed, but he didn't sound displeased. Rather, he sounded almost approving, as indicated by the amused smile on his lips. Akira couldn't get what the fuck was going on inside Shiki's head, but he didn't want to. He'd probably lose his sanity trying to understand Shiki and his depraved behavior. The man was a sadist and that was all there was to it.
Shiki still had a smirk holding his expression together as he stood up and capped the water bottle. Akira watched warily as Shiki stalked toward the bed. Shiki made sure to leave the water bottle on the windowsill right where Akira could see it. Then he walked past Akira, leaving Akira's line of sight.
Akira listened to the faint sound of Shiki grabbing his sword. Akira tensed a bit, but the footsteps didn't come closer to him. Instead, they moved in the direction of the door.
Shiki said nothing as he left the room and closed the door, leaving Akira alone once more.
Akira exhaled and cast his gaze down at the floor. His arms ached in their awkward position, and Akira shook and stretched them a little, trying to stimulate what little nerves he could. He wondered if his wrists had marks on them by now.
The thirst in his throat had worsened ever since Shiki had tempted him with that water bottle. It was almost painful. His stomach felt hollow, too, like his hunger was going to swallow him up from the inside. He tried to focus on breathing to tear his attention away from his body's cravings.
Akira tried one more time to pull apart the handcuffs and break them, but to no avail. The attempt only made him more aware of his fading strength. He huffed to himself.
"Damn it…"
✝
♱
It was raining.
Akira wasn't sure how much time had passed since Shiki left. Hours… days? He was staring straight ahead at the bed, though his gaze was fixed on nothing in particular.
His eyes almost hurt in their fatigue. He hadn't gotten much sleep… not like this. His hands were still behind him. The ache had long passed. Now his arms were simply numb.
He'd managed to maneuver into a lying position somehow when his back had gotten too sore from sitting up. It had come at the cost of his shoulder's comfort though. With the way his hands were pulled behind him, most of his weight leaned onto his shoulder.
But the floor was so cold, and he shivered. A lot. His cheek and arm were pressed against the floor. The icy concrete chilled his skin. It'd been uncomfortable at first, bordering on pain. Now he could barely feel the side of his face.
…Rain. That was the rain he was hearing, wasn't it? The sound of its pattering was like a continuous whisper in his ears. Not quite loud enough that it drew all his attention away, but still soft and discernible enough that it had become the new silence.
He'd drifted sometimes. In and out. Akira was never quite sure if he'd fallen asleep or if he'd just thought he had. His eyes were so heavy and sluggish. Whenever he closed them, there would be a small moment of relief, as if a weight were lifting off them, but then the ache in them soon returned.
Sleep. He wanted to sleep so badly.
His flat gaze rested on something in the distance. Standing on top of the windowsill was the water bottle that Shiki had placed there right before leaving. There was still an ample amount of water inside.
His lips twitched a little, and the movement felt strange… unfamiliar. The tongue in his mouth didn't even feel like his own. His gaze remained fixed on the water bottle, almost unblinking.
Was he going insane…
The small, cold breaths he inhaled grazed his tongue; scraped his teeth. He tried to scoot closer toward the windows. The cuffs creaked, and his mouth quivered at the harsh, metallic sound.
He wanted that water bottle. He wanted it desperately. Even as every part of his body had grown numb from the cold, the dryness in his throat had remained severe.
His hunger gnawed at him, too, but his thirst just couldn't be ignored. He stared ahead at the enticing bottle with the faint hope that if he looked at it long enough, he would be able to reach and grab it with his eyes.
And then, there was a thought in his head:
When would Shiki be back?
…
Akira looked away from the windowsill, closing his eyes.
✝
♱
He heard the familiar sound of Shiki's footsteps. They almost echoed against the concrete.
Those footsteps… A clink of metal sounded in the room. Slowly, Akira raised himself from the position he was in, almost surprised he still even had the strength to.
A soothing feeling settled in his chest. He was relieved that Shiki was finally back.
Relief…? Should he be feeling relief right now?
The seconds passed by without seeming that long as Shiki entered the room. He came around the table and in front of Akira, who was sitting up by now.
Akira glanced up as much as his tired eyes allowed him to.
…Shiki.
Shiki was looking down at him with an amused and knowing smirk, like he'd expected this would happen.
"Painful, isn't it?" Shiki said, his voice smooth and deep. He grabbed the water bottle from the windowsill. The sloshing sound jerked Akira out of his slight reverie.
Shiki pulled the wooden crate over and sat down right in front of Akira, mere centimeters away from him. He propped his katana against the edge of the bed. It rested at a slant. Akira's gaze flicked to the sheathed sword momentarily before settling on Shiki again.
"…Do you want this?" Shiki asked quietly, holding the water to Akira's face. There was no scorn or expectation in his voice. It was a genuine question.
Akira tensed. Was… Was Shiki finally showing mercy? He stared at the water bottle before glancing back up at Shiki. Shiki's red eyes showed no hint of emotion.
Akira gave a strained nod.
"Drink as much as you'd like then," Shiki said. There were some sounds of Shiki's leather clothes rustling, but Akira hardly registered them over the anticipation of finally having his thirst relieved.
Akira waited as Shiki uncapped the water bottle, his breaths coming in slightly quick. It was so close… the water was so close to his face this time. He couldn't wait any longer to taste it.
Shiki tilted the bottle down. A thin stream of water came flowing out. Akira almost jumped at it but stopped himself when he realized where the water was going.
The water… It was pouring, it was spilling over Shiki's… not his hand, but his—
Akira's eyes widened, his senses flooding back to him.
"What's wrong?" Shiki said, noticing Akira's hesitation. His lips were curled in a wicked smile. As if the bastard didn't know what he was doing. "It's not as though you haven't done this before."
"You—you're fucking sick," Akira muttered in disbelief, his skin already crawling before this even started. He'd taken Shiki in his mouth before, but obviously not like this.
"Would you prefer dying of thirst then?" came Shiki's unbothered reply.
Akira ground his teeth. The truth was that he would rather die by Shiki's blade than thirst. Physical pain was at least manageable, and he was used to it, but this…
He'd never felt such excruciating anguish before.
Dying by Shiki's sword would at least provide a quick, albeit painful death. He wasn't sure how much longer he could suffer with the dry, agonizing ache in his throat.
"Look. If you don't hurry, all the water will be gone." Shiki hadn't stopped pouring even when Akira had paused in hesitation. The wasted water hit the floor with light splashes. Akira's mouth trembled at the painful, unending sound of the spill. An ache radiated from deep within his body.
Was this punishment? If he'd begged… if he'd thrown away his pride and asked Shiki for the water last time… maybe it wouldn't have come to this.
Akira's chest sank with a heavy weight. His throat was too dry. If his thirst had been sated, he would've been able to think this through properly. Yet it was exactly because he'd been deprived of water that he couldn't think rationally.
…No. He knew what he was doing. It was just that his thirst was finally overpowering his resolve, and he was giving in to his body's need for sustenance. The cracks in his already damaged pride were deepening, reaching toward his core. But his throat…
Inhaling a raspy breath, he stuck his tongue out and licked up the water flowing down Shiki's cock.
The refreshing taste of water made Akira shiver out a few breaths. He closed his mouth immediately after and swallowed, relishing the minuscule amount of relief that the water brought to his throat.
But it wasn't enough. His throat was still too dry.
Shiki was warm on his tongue, but the water was cold. Akira dragged his tongue over him, lapping up the water as it continued to spill. He couldn't keep his eyes open. He didn't want to. Seeing Shiki's scornful expression would just worsen the warm humiliation that sunk into him.
The water was pouring down messily; it got on Akira's lips and chin. Akira licked the droplets on his chin as best as he could, not wanting to waste any of them, almost panting. He didn't know how much was still left in the bottle, but he knew his thirst wouldn't be satiated with just this. He thought it would've been easier to resist once he'd gotten some water and alleviated the ache in his throat a little, but now that he was finally tasting what he'd been craving for so long, he couldn't stop himself from opening up his mouth and desperately trying to lap up more.
It was like a drug, almost. He couldn't stop—he needed more. He wanted to keep drinking water, to never let the high of soothing his parched throat end. It was comforting, yet so painful at the same time, chasing what seemed like a satisfaction that would never plateau; only stretch higher out of his reach.
His mouth was barely on Shiki. Just the feel of him on his tongue made Akira tense with his fists clenched in disgust, but he followed the thin trails of water that trickled down Shiki's cock. He mouthed at him, sometimes focusing his lips at the spot where the stream of water directly splashed against Shiki, if only so he could drink and swallow more. But then Shiki would then move the water bottle, as if to make Akira move his tongue around and work for the water.
Akira forced back the choked sob that threatened to rise from his throat. A dog—that was what he was. Lapping up water sloppily out of pure instinct and desperation to survive. He was no better than an animal. No… he was worse than one.
Soon his saliva was coated all over Shiki's cock. The water no longer felt as cold on his tongue. Akira's skin was burning from indignation and shame, the heat grazing him in pinpricks. His breaths started to pass faster, eyes wetting slightly. The water's flow slowed and thinned out.
Shiki sighed, his hand going behind Akira's hair. "You can put more effort into your mouth than that." And with a firm push on Akira's head, his cock slipped inside Akira's mouth.
Akira coughed around Shiki, breathing hard through his nose. Saliva spilled from his mouth. Shiki hardly gave him any respite or time to adjust, his hand guiding Akira's head through the motion.
Akira squeezed his eyes shut as he was pushed down on Shiki's cock. His face burned with hot shame at being forced to sit on his knees while Shiki violated his mouth. It was humiliating, having his mouth used this way, and the feel of it was so foreign, warm and hard on his tongue.
His throat was still dry, though it was no longer as agonizing as before. Akira lapped up and swallowed what he could. Soon all he could taste was his own saliva, the delectable water completely gone.
He felt Shiki hardening in his mouth. Akira furrowed his brows with his eyes still shut, grunting from the back of his throat. The slide of Shiki's cock on his tongue was steady and rigid. Akira had to angle his head to get a better hold of him in his mouth.
Drops of sweat slid down his temples, trailing toward his jaw. The hand on the back of his head was firm but not forceful. With Shiki on his tongue, his mouth felt full, so full. His jaw was becoming sore, but Shiki showed no signs of stopping.
There was pre-cum leaking on his tongue. Akira recoiled at the taste, but he breathed through it, lapping it up. Shiki grunted above him and then got up from the crate, bringing his hips closer to Akira's face, his cock slipping deeper inside Akira's mouth. Akira almost gagged.
Shiki was holding Akira's head still now as he fucked Akira's face. Akira could do nothing but pant through his nose, his jaw sore from being held open for so long. His mouth trembled. The hand on the back of his hair was almost gentle, just holding his head there; a barely noticeable weight, but the thrusts into his mouth were anything but. They were fast and sharp, hips rocking into his face.
A heady scent had started to fill Akira's nose. His knees ached and burned. A ball of dread swam in the pit of his stomach, anxiety rolling around and crashing like waves. His hands were shaking, the cold metal handcuffs chafing his skin. The only thing Akira could focus on was keeping his mouth open and enduring the violating thrusts. It was a steady rhythm, hot and hard on his tongue. The pervasive fear crawling in him sent tremors across his skin, only a single question repeating in his head of when this would be over—if it would ever be over.
He hoped it would end soon, he even hoped Shiki would just come already so it would stop.
It seemed to last forever and by now Akira's saliva was being dragged out of his mouth by Shiki's thrusts. Akira nearly coughed around Shiki, the back of his throat tightening. When Shiki finally came, it was with the twitching of his cock. He'd grown so stiff in Akira's mouth right before, almost brushing the back of Akira's throat.
Shiki let out a low, faint breath, his hand still on Akira's head as he spilled himself in Akira's mouth. Akira could feel the heat grazing his tongue. The urge to spit it out didn't rise up his throat like it usually would whenever Shiki finished in his mouth. Even if it wasn't water, it was still something he could swallow…
Inhaling shaky breaths, Akira lapped up the warmth on his tongue. Shiki breathed a quiet grunt above him, and then the hand on the back of his head tightened into his hair. Akira was tonguing at the slit of Shiki's cock, licking up the taste of him and swallowing it down his throat.
Shiki pulled him off his cock and Akira coughed, saliva spilling out of his mouth and down his chin. He yanked Akira's head back by his hair so Akira was facing the ceiling. Then he grabbed an unopened water bottle from the table.
Akira was still trying to catch his breath when cold water splashed onto his face. It wetted his eyelids and dripped down the hill of his nose; winded over the plains of his cheeks like rivulets. His lips shivered and he stuck his tongue out, trying to lick up what little droplets he could as the water streamed down his face.
Shiki grabbed him by the jaw, holding Akira's mouth open. The water was still splashing on his face and spilling wastefully, but soon it was cascading right into his mouth. Akira coughed as it flowed over his tongue and down his throat, but he swallowed as much as he could.
Opening his eyes, he tried to blink away the droplets that dotted his lashes. There, he saw the water almost gleaming in front of him. Akira gulped and gulped, relief soaring through him. He could hear nothing but the sound of the water gushing out of the bottle. For a moment he was in complete bliss, the various aches in his body all forgotten; even the soreness in his jaw and the heavy drowsiness in his eyes… everything.
His gaze numbed. Above him, all he could see were crimson eyes staring down at him, watching him, taking in the entirety of his pathetic form. Akira no longer cared that he was kneeling and practically panting like a dog with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. His throat was becoming so damp and cool.
Akira's breathing slowly settled down, and he nearly whimpered once it felt like his vocal cords wouldn't crack from sheer dryness anymore. The water stopped flowing, but he continued swallowing and gasping until his throat was clear.
The grip around his chin lifted. Shiki capped the water bottle before carelessly tossing it aside on the floor. It rolled away. Akira's tired gaze followed the line of its path.
Shiki leaned over and, a moment later, opened the handcuffs around Akira's wrists. They fell to the floor. Akira hardly even realized the weight had left his hands. He kept them bound in that position, his arms too stiff and numb to move. It wasn't until Shiki grabbed his hair and pressed his head down to the floor that Akira splayed his forearms against the concrete.
Akira's temple pressed into the cold, hard flooring. The heat on his face chilled immediately and he almost hissed from the sudden drop in temperature, but his ears and neck remained warm. Droplets of water slid down his cooling face, outlining his cheeks. He was lying against the floor on his stomach. Behind him, Shiki's weight settled atop him.
Akira flinched when he suddenly remembered what was happening. He tried to move, but Shiki pinned him down, his arms encircling Akira's waist. The hazy fatigue that'd been cocooning Akira after his quenched thirst faded, and now he was left with the harrowing reminder of what he was: a prisoner in Shiki's domain.
Shiki's hand slipped under his shirt, his fingers brushing the piercing in Akira's navel. He pulled on it lightly, just enough to cause Akira's skin to stretch, and Akira bit his lip, moaning under his breath. The hand then traveled upwards, dragging Akira's shirt along, until his torso was completely exposed and the cold air curled around his skin. His nipples brushed the freezing concrete and Akira hissed and trembled at the near painful touch, the heat on his skin turning to ice, breaths sharp and shaky.
He was finally granted respite when Shiki pulled him up by the waist, forcing Akira onto his knees. Akira's forearms were still planted against the floor while Shiki's hands got to work on the belt around Akira's pants. As soon as the belt slipped off, Shiki undid the zipper of his jeans, and his hand slid into Akira's pants, gripping his cock.
Akira gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice at the back of his throat. Shiki's other hand was tugging on his piercing once more. Akira was too tired to even put up much of a fight. His whole body was aching for sleep, muscles sore and weak. If it weren't for Shiki holding him up, he would've fallen to the floor already, lacking the stamina to even support his own weight.
For a moment all that existed in the room were the low moans and breaths sliding out of him, pulled from his mouth at the same pace that Shiki was pulling on his cock, his hand gripped tight around Akira. Akira's elbows were freezing against the floor; the concrete was so cold it might as well have been scraping his skin off. His biceps and shoulders were trembling just to keep his upper body lifted like this.
The tugs in his navel and on his cock subsided as Shiki's hands moved to pull Akira's pants down. Akira shuddered, feeling exposed, but he hardly had the opportunity to attempt a getaway as Shiki already started pushing into him.
No…
Akira's fingers were clawing at the floor now. He was panting, pain and heat rippling through him, his muscles tense and shaking. The pressure was one he'd been forced to endure countless times now, but he could never get used to it. It burned and hurt as much every time. Akira was fighting to hold his grunts back, his quivering breaths sliding out through gritted teeth. Shiki was slowly sinking into him, his weight falling onto Akira's back. His arms pulled Akira in by the waist, hips soon meeting Akira's.
They stayed like that for a moment before Shiki started to move. Akira's breath hitched and he lowered his head, his forehead pressing against the icy floor through disheveled bangs. Shiki's hands started roaming across Akira's chest, fingers raking at his muscles before finally settling on his nipples, pinching them hard. Akira had been biting his lip but he groaned at that.
The dog tag hanging from his neck clinked against the floor as Shiki thrust into him. Akira's eyes started wetting from the sheer pain of it all. His lips trembled but he could say nothing; could not beg for mercy. If he did, the humiliation melting into his skin would just sink deeper, making him feel even more disgusted with himself than he already was.
If only he hadn't crossed paths with this man—if only he'd never gotten framed for murder…
Shiki's hand grabbed his jaw and held Akira's head up from the floor.
"Open your mouth," Shiki ordered, forcing his fingers past Akira's lips. Akira considered biting down on them for a moment before begrudgingly widening his mouth and letting Shiki's fingers prod his tongue. Even though he wanted to resist, to do whatever he could to retaliate, the ensuing punishment he'd receive would be even more humiliating and painful. Shiki would make sure of that.
Shiki's fingers left his mouth with a string of saliva, and there was a sound of a plastic wrapper wrinkling. His hand returned to Akira's mouth a second later, this time with a Solid.
Akira's hunger flared from the sight of it, his mouth hanging open. The Solid could hardly be called appetizing, but he was so starved for food that just about anything edible stimulated his senses. His stomach felt unbearably empty, and so did his throat.
Akira gritted his teeth and bowed his head, lowering his mouth to Shiki's hand, his hunger overriding his shame. He took a bite of the Solid from Shiki's hand. The chemical flavor pervaded his mouth and tingled his taste buds as he chewed.
Shiki continued to thrust into him while Akira ate the Solid off his hand like a hungry dog. Akira was moaning—whether out of relief from satiating his hunger or from the heat permeating his lower body, he didn't know, but none of it mattered to him anymore. He was chewing so fast and swallowing so much, relishing the taste of it. He couldn't stop the sounds of relief that escaped his throat, shivers rippling across his body.
He didn't care anymore. Eating this Solid from Shiki's hand… it couldn't have been worse than what Shiki had made him do before.
Shiki's other hand was pinning Akira's wrist down against the floor. This close—Akira could hear Shiki's grunts in his ear, feel his every breath. Akira moaned low in his throat, mouthing at Shiki's hand. The Solid was all gone now; Akira had eaten it too quickly, but he traced the lines of Shiki's palm with his tongue, searching for crumbs.
He heard a faint, almost raspy groan from Shiki. Shiki's hand tightened on his wrist, and then he shoved his fingers inside Akira's mouth. Akira inhaled around Shiki's fingers, lapping up the faint taste of the Solid mixed with a residue of leather. He swirled his tongue around Shiki's fingers, prodding the joints and grinding his tongue between them.
Shiki sighed into his ear, his cock easing deeper into Akira. His chest leaned onto Akira's back, their bodies flush, his hips pressed against Akira's. Akira's hips trembled as he moaned, his voice muffled by Shiki's fingers in his mouth. Shiki's cock was thrusting deeper into him. Akira's knees ached against the floor, the dog tag around his neck swaying and jangling noisily.
Shiki let go of his wrist and splayed his hand over Akira's chest. His hand made a line toward Akira's navel. Pushing the piercing in with his thumb, he placed pressure on it, making it dig into Akira's skin. Then he pulled on the piercing, and heat pooled within Akira's navel at the stretching sensation.
Akira's cock was painfully hard. When Shiki's hand traveled down from the piercing and gripped his cock, Akira parted his knees wider, his hips feeling hot. Shiki stroked him mercilessly, his hand moving as fast as his hips, cock sliding in roughly. Akira couldn't help but thrust into Shiki's hand, trembling at the heat circling his cock. He clenched around Shiki, feeling heat pull up to where Shiki was jerking him off. Akira rocked his hips forward with erratic breaths, almost as if he was trying to fuck Shiki's hand.
He felt lips on his neck. Shiki was dragging his lips over his skin and breathing warm sighs onto him. Akira moaned around Shiki's fingers in his mouth, thrusting his cock into Shiki's hand faster. Behind him, Shiki grunted, his cock burying deeper into Akira, pushing in roughly. He pressed wet kisses to Akira's neck, mouthing hungrily at his skin, all tongue and teeth with his kisses.
It was enough to flood Akira's head with intense heat. Akira came in Shiki's hand, his whole body convulsing, moans muffled in his throat. Shiki's hand continued to pump him as he spilled cum against the floor. Akira felt so warm and feverish; all he could do was pant through his nose as Shiki's fingers moved around in his mouth, stroking his tongue.
Breaking. He was breaking. Shiki was breaking him.
He didn't even realize he'd been crying until he felt Shiki's tongue on him, his hand no longer in Akira's mouth but cradling Akira's chin. Shiki's tongue was warm, gently pressing to the tears on his face and licking them up.
The near affection of the act… it made Akira pause.
Akira slipped a few moans as Shiki's thrusts continued, their hips rocking together slowly. Shiki's strained breaths ghosted his skin. He stilled several seconds later, holding Akira up against his chest. Akira felt Shiki's cock pulsing in him, his arms keeping Akira in place. They stayed like that for a bit, sharing quiet breaths until the pulses passed and Shiki started to slowly ease out of him.
Something warm dripped out of him. Akira shuddered and dropped his head to the floor, uncaring of the sharp dip in temperature on his face. His body was too slack with heat and he could feel drops of sweat rolling down his face and neck. He would've collapsed entirely on the floor, but Shiki was still holding him up by the waist, his chest warm on Akira's back.
Akira was still panting quietly when Shiki pulled him up from the floor. Akira opened his eyes but was too faint to make out anything in his vision; it was just a blur of shadows. The room was dark and all he could hear was the rain and the low rumbles of thunder.
He felt Shiki lifting him up into his arms.
"Just..." Akira whispered, but he had no strength left to talk. He could scarcely make out Shiki's vague silhouette in the dark as Shiki carried him across the room.
Shiki dropped him on top of the bed, and the ache in Akira's back eased against the flat but soft mattress. Akira cast a disoriented glance up at Shiki but couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer; he closed them, his body exhausted and in desperate need of sleep.
Just kill me already.